Not yet
by PadawannaB
Summary: It was not supposed to happen, not yet. And still, there it was, the light, illuminating, dazzling...  Takes place after TPM, before AotC.


**My first SW fic, like, evah... :3 **

**Okay, I hope this isn't too confusing. It's supposed to be a bit weird and mysterious in the beginning, but otherwise I hope it's clear enough. I just had to get this out of my head, so it's a bit rushed.**

**About the dots between the parts... Hmm. I uploaded the story to Document Manager, and it was fine. I previewed it, it was fine. But when I moved to create a new story out of it, the single line breaks were all gone. So, I did this. Hope it doesn't look too weird. If you know how to solve this problem, plz tell me!  
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**If I owned Star Wars, I'd have enough money to buy the complete saga on DVD. But, seeing as I don't, you can safely assume that I don't own anything. **

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><p><strong>Not yet<strong>

He was walking in the hallways of the Jedi Temple, heading to nowhere in particular. On the way he saw people he thought he knew, faces he was certainly familiar with, and those long gone who he had never really met, but who still felt like the closest of friends to him. Occasionally he paused to talk to someone, or to admire the view, but soon he continued his way, still heading nowhere, just passing the time he didn't really have, that didn't really exist.

The Force was flowing around him, soft, fresh, as he walked on and on. And then. Scream. _The_ scream. The voice he had once hated the most in the universe. It's power in the Force made him double over. The other may have glanced at him curiously, but of that he did not care. The voice made him sick, it made him want to run, to fight, to do everything he could to make it stop, silent, non-existent, unreal. Pain, agony, yelling, voices of battles he had never fought, pain agony yelling Bandomeer Melida/Daan blood so much blood screaming **stop it stop it STOP IT!**

**.**

He opened his eyes.

.

_No._

_.  
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And then he ran, ran through the hallways of the Jedi Temple, not seeing the people he thought he knew, not the faces he was familiar with, nor those long gone: he didn't see or hear them, there was just the echo of the scream and the voice in his head, repeating, chanting the same words over and over again. _Not yet, not yet, not yet..._

_.  
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As he reached the stairs that led down to the square, there were already people there. Younglings, Padawans, Knights, Masters of all worlds, all times, all places, gathering, whispering, speaking in hushed tones.

.

**_Who's coming? Who is it? _**

**_.  
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**_Who's coming?_**

**_.  
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_Not yet not yet not yet not yet..._

_._

._  
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In the centre of the Temple Square, in the edges of which all the people were gathered, a light suddenly flared to life, dazzling, pure white, illuminating.

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_No no nonono, go away go away, not yet not yet..._

_.  
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**_Who is it? Who's coming? Who is it?_**

**_Who?_**

**_.  
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_No no no no_

_.  
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He broke through a group of beings, ran, ran faster than he could ever remember running before. He was now separated from the pack, running alone, alone in the square, towards the light, that dazzling, pure white which shouldn't be there.

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**_Why is he running? Does he now who it is? Who is it? Who's coming home?_**

**_.  
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_No no nononono..._

_.  
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**_Who's coming home?_**

**_._**

.**_  
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Under the light, on the ground, now lay a man.

_Not yet_

_._

._  
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**Only twenty meters left**

**.  
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A young man. _Is he 30 now? Or 31?_ It was so hard to remember...

_Not yet._

_._

._  
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**Fifteen meters**

**.  
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The light was fading...

_Not yet!_

_._

._  
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**Ten meters**

**.  
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The light was gone.

_NOT YET!_

.

._  
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And then he was there, kneeling beside the young man. It was silent: no more whispering, no more guestions. They had all been answered: now everyone knew who had come home. And everyone knew it was wrong.

.

.

A single blaster shot had got through the young man's guard. The blackened hole with charred edges right in the middle of his cheast clashed terribly with the white tunics the man was wearing, just like his ginger hair clashed with his pale face.

He carefully gathered the younger man in his arms. "Not yet, you're not supposed to yet. You're not supposed to..." He had seen it, he had seen it all. When he was laying on the cold, metal floor by the melting pit in the palace of Theed, dying, he had seen it all. What was to come. What was to be in the future and in the times beyond. This... This wasn't supposed to be. Not yet.

.

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The younger man was stirring. He opened his eyes, and looked at him for a long time.

.

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"Master Qui-Gon."

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"Obi-Wan."

.

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Then it seemed to truly hit Obi-Wan. He looked at Qui-Gon again, straight in the eyes, as if searching for something. It was a look of disbelief, of heartbreaking hope that it had all been a dream, of anger when he told himself it hadn't, of dissappointment and sorrow for the course of events, of utter and perfect confusion, and, finally, of realization.

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" I'm dead."

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What hurt Qui-Gon most was that Obi-Wan didn't sound saddened by this. (_He should be. He left __the boy behind. He's not sad. His glad to see me. He should have let me go, this is not the Jedi way. This is not supposed to be. Not yet._)No, he sounded almost happy. And as much as it made Qui-Gon happy to see that he was still missed, that Obi-Wan still longed to see him again even after how things had ended, how his final words had taken form so very differently than he had always planned, he still knew what he had seen. He had seen it all. This was not to be. Not yet. So he had to do it. _I have to. It hurts, but I have to._ He had to lie.

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"No. No, you're not, little one. You're just asleep. You have to wake up, it's not... it's not time to sleep yet."

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He felt tears burning unshed in his eyes. He had to. Obi-Wan had to go away. They had to be apart. Separated once again, for many years to come.

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"Wake up, little one."

"Yes, Master", Obi-Wan said, obediently as always. _The perfect Padawan_.

.

.

The light was coming again, coming to take back what it had brought, dazzling, pure white, illuminating. And slowly, Obi-Wan's eyes started to close, and even though this was the exact opposite, Qui-Gon felt like he was loosing him, that his Padawan was dying, being torn away from him; when in reality he begged, prayed, for the light to come and undo it all, begged and prayed it to take the young man away. Begged and prayed using all the Force he could gather.

.

He held him, when the light was at its brightest and when it started to disappear. He held the boy who had been willing to sacrifice himself in order to save him on Bandomeer, and he held the man who had held him on that cold, metal floor by the melting pit in the palace of Theed.

He held him after he was already gone, with only emptiness in his arms but the familiar feeling of holding the young man still in his heart. _He went back. It's over. This is the right way, I should be happy. This is how it must be. This is- oh Force!_

_.  
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He had seen it! He had seen it all! The war, destroyer of lives. The betrayal, the downfall of the only family he had ever known. The innocent boy turning in to a monster, the Chosen One of the prophecies becoming the darkness itself. The solitude, the long years in the desert, watching over the child of a brother long gone, a person who no longer existed, the years of regretting, mourning, guilt...

And he had sent him back! His little one, his Padawan, his son in all but blood. He had sent him back, knowing fully well what awaited him, what was to be the fate of the gentle, kind, obedient young man he had made to promise things the young man did not want to promise. He had had the choice! He could have saved Obi-Wan from it all, let him join the Force, never to know the pain, loneliness and self-doubt that now surely was to happen. He could have let him join the Force...

.

.

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...and leave Anakin behind. The promise that had been made by the melting pit, on the cold, metal floor, was not a thing Obi-Wan regretted. Anakin was like a brother to him, and he like a father to the young boy._ And what would the boy become if it wasn't Obi-Wan who trained him?_This was right, may it feel like it or not. For Obi-Wan's was a hard life, but it would not be without it's moments of happines, friendship and joy. His was a tough road, but it would still have uphills, and from the top one could gaze far, far away, and see many beautiful things. And once, when all would be said and done, he would come back, the light, pure white, dazzling, illuminating. And then he would stay.

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Qui-Gon slowly rose to his feet, and walked off the square.

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The boy could not understand, why his Master was crying when he woke up in the Halls of Healing.

.

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**~Fin~**

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><p><strong>That's it! Reviews, anyone? :3<strong>


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